


D is for Dangerous

by busywastinglife



Category: Fashion Model RPF, One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busywastinglife/pseuds/busywastinglife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is D for Dangerous or Delevingne?<br/>Interviewers are dumb, Cara is stunning, Harry is stunned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D is for Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> Aka I'm in love with Cara Delevingne and Harry Styles is pretty useful.  
> Nick Grimshaw is new Jesus Christ.  
> I listened to Arctic Monkeys a lot.

He was a ladies man. Well known as a cougar lover.

She was a tomboy. Well known for her eyebrows and leather jacket.

At least that's what everybody thinks about them. And this way it's not the best match.

It's a friendship and they're drunk and it wasn't meant to mean anything. But it's THAT girl and THAT boy, so things automatically need to get absurdally complicated, no matter how annoying and frustrating it is. Lots of flashlights, lenses pointed at their faces. Wasn't privacy guaranteed? Even seats of the awfully expensive range rover seem to get uncomfortable in this situation, but they drive off anyway.

It's not her world. It definitely isn't. Not cool enough and not cool, it's all about the temperature of thinking. You need to be collected and peaceful. In her world everything is cold and emotionless. Well, it should be. The only emotions are strictly controlled, showed off like art experiment. And she thinks about everything this way. She doesn't like emotions, because they make such situations happen and she doesn't need this shit. She's a model, supermodel, not a fucking celebrity. She's a hipster, let's face it(she wouldn't admit it, but true hipsters don't), not exactly kind of person to be on covers of tabloids. She wants to be a professionalist. _Maybe hanging out with certain people isn't that good idea_ crosses her mind, but they won't fucking tell her what to do. Again, she's not that kind of person.

But right now she's not sure who she is, who she wants to be or who she should be.

But he's still here.

People _genuinely_ think they know everything about him. And they kind of do. They know what's his cat's name, where he lives, what's his favourite food, what happened on his 18th birthday and that he sometimes wants to shag his male best friend. He's not sure if it's all truth, but he lets them to have fun. As long as they leave him some unexplored lands everything is fine.

He didn't think they would be so stubborn in trying to conquer his life, poking their noses everywhere. Especially into his pants. He’s been acussed of sleeping with 410 women and breaking up 3 marriages. But _wasn't it all about sex?_

Right, he's also known for this. Being all distracted, disorientated and reckless. He's proven his recklessness in many ways and it's always somehow connected to his lovelife. Openly staring at Louis's eyelashes, also openly slipping out of the bars with all these random blondes and talking about Caroline way too often. But he can't ever lie, can't hide his emotions, he's an open book and maybe that's why they love him so much. Because he's a fucking good person.

 _Or it's about the looks._  

 

***

He listens to the blonde woman, who is blabbering about Burberry's show just to attack him with annoying questions. She probably thinks it's smooth. It's not. She probably should find some better work in her age than talking about boysband member, but people don't do things they should. He knows it from autopsy.  
-Even Harry Styles came and made an appearance! I wonder why...- she says and again there's nothing smooth about it.

He always wondered why they bother asking him if things seem so obvious to them.  
She catches him in the crowd, in the dark and asks him a question about the show. She accepts his casual answer and goes straight to the point.  
-And Cara must've been the highlight. - It's not really a question and he well knows why. He can't help the smirk when he answers- Yeah, she was great. She did great job.-  _thinking about the way her gaze sometimes lingers on his lips and-_  
-Didn't she look amazing?- the interviewer presses. And he doesn't lie, why would he.  
-Yeah, she looked amazing.- _and she looks up and her orbs are so dark, so dark, like when stepped back after kissing her cheek earlier that day._  He wants her bad, he can't lie.

  
He even ditches that great movie with Emma Watson and Logan Lerman for her. Emma Watson's quite hot. So is Logan Lerman. Don't even start on Ezra Miller. Also that's not the point.

He gets a message, phone annoyingly buzzing in his pocket. Nick crinkles nose and digs an elbow into his ribs. Harry giggles, getting phone out of his pocket. "Shitty day. Got some free time, celeb? Come over :c"  
He grabs his stuff and gets up. Nick raises his eyebrows.  
-Your grannie is dying, I hope?  
-Something like that- Harry smiles and plants a messy kiss on man's cheek to his visible disgust.

  
Leaving Logan and Emma to themselves and kissing radio DJs turns out to be worth it, when he sees her sitting on a couch in only a tee. Her chin rests on her knees pulled up to her chest and he thinks she looks cute like ever. But he thinks it every time. This is how it works. She looks up at him and says she wants some popcorn. So they make a popcorn, put on some exceptionally stupid movie, but it doesn't matter, since they ignore it anyway. She tells him about the crap in work, curses a lot, changes topic every two minutes, meanwhile moving her chin to his arm, then chest, when they lie down. He strokes her hair, eats all of the popcorn and tries to be helpful.  
-Feeling better now? - he asks and she curves her lips in some lame parody of optimism.  
He laughs and prompts- Smile like you mean it.  
Then she laughs too, her fingers tracing up his thigh and maybe it's vodka in her breath.  
Of course her phone calls and he needs to go. There's always a phone, isn't it? He's only a little bit annoyed, he predicted this.

Harry Styles will get another chance.

  
Emma Watson finds out and tweets him. Harry plans to murder Grimmy in near future.

 

***

"You're gonna regret it, kid." Gemma says.  
Harry laughs, shrugs and shakes his head in some kind of ritual. Sis' alway right about this. Not this time he promises himself.

He sips his drink slowly looking around. Such a nice night, the room full of rich kids like him. He waves at Caroline, his smile widing. She teases him about some shit, then they argue about other shit and laugh at another. He's so happy and changes his mind. It was all so worth it, meeting her, dating her and getting to know her, because she's so amazing. He only regrets letting all of them to hurt her. She pokes him (why is everyone abusing him?), then kisses his cheek and runs away just to fall into Grimmy's warm embrance. Then Harry spots her. She's dancing with chocolate skinned chick, who he recognizes as Azaelia Banks (he doesn't really know her, but he's heard about her and he's heard **her**. Her voice is nice and the music is nice, but that's description of most of the girls he knows) with that weird Simpsons outift on and the pink strand in her hair. She stops for a moment to grab her lilac drink. She drinks it and little droplets of liquid slid down her lips and chin. Painfully slowly she licks them, suddenly looking up at him. Cara smirks and nods at his direction. He feels his lips stretching out in wide cheshire cat smile. He just can't stop himself. She apparently excuses herself and walks up to him, immediately hooking her arms over his neck. Her breath smells like Malibu.  
-Hey Haz.  
-Hello yourself, having fun, I see?  
-Quite so...  
Cara smiles, closes her eyes and softly pokes him in the arm with her nose.  
-Get me a drink- she demands.  
He slowly nods his head, leads her toward the bar and gets her something very colorful, very spicy and full of alcohol. Harry drinks his beer.

They dance or at least try to while their heads are getting slightly dizzy. Cara dips her head back and glances at turqoise lights dancing in circles on dark ceiling. He kisses her exposed neck and licks the stripe up, towards her chin and ear. She catches his arse in fit of giggles. So drunk.

They get out through backdoor, stumbling over their own feet a little and take a cab to Harry's flat. It's surprising how lucky they were. No papz, no pictures, no proof of their night together, nobody noticed. The air in cab is rather thick and full of something hard to describe, since they both well know what's going to happen. They forget that life tends to be surprising and they tend to be scumbags. Harry has serious problems with opening the door. You wouldn't think, but at the moment coming 3rd in x factor, selling out shows, touring the world and making records platinum seemed much easier than aiming key into the lock. They finally stumble into falt and Harry feels very proud. He opened the door! Cara presses him up against the door and he likes it. She rakes her nails down his clothed torso and he likes it even more. They kiss, tongues sneaking into each others mouts and they sigh in symphony. It's brand new Cara - she kisses him deeply, desperately grasps his shirt and softly. There are little driplets of sweat on her forehead and she stops to throw the mess of her hair over the shoulder. She laughs breathlessly and clutches his shoulders keeping herself from falling. He just stares at her with awe.  
-Oh my god, I promised myself I'd never do this - she leans into his neck with another soft giggle and her lips tickle his skin. He laughs back at her, nipping her earlobe to get a moan out of her. Harry keeps playing around, it's still fun, but he starts getting impatient. He waited too long and she's too perfect.  
\- Why wouldn't you want me?  
\- Oh everybody does. The dimples, the curls, innit. You wouldn't be any fun taken. But yeah, a hook up won't hurt anyone, innit. - Cara slurs. - We're the same, just two pretty faces in crowd. I'm kind of okay with this for now, I don't need to try.  _We would be nothing without our faces, innit._ \- sha traces his tongue down his collarbones, over tips of swallow wings peaking out of his loose shirt.  
\- You taste like money and jealousy. Yum. - Cara whispers.  
Harry blinks slowly, something weird bubbling deep in his stomach.  
\- I'm in a  _band_  sweetie, looks ain't everything.- His fingers clasp her arse with slight anger. He hears soft laughter and feels it against his chest. There's a hand on his arm again, she's way drunker than he thought, but it still hurts, when she says quietly, with a smirk - At least I don't pretend babe. I would be nowhere, you would be nowhere if these teen, bored chicks didn't like you enough.  
Harry realizes that it's ice in his stomach and he's frozen, angry, trying to convince himself that she's wrong. Maybe she doesn't mean it, maybe she's just drunk. Oh, wait. Cara doesn't lie and she wouldn't even after ten bottles of Malibu. He's stupid. Truth is such a turn off, so he puts her into cab home.

 

***

  
She textes him the next morning, actually waking him up. It's not morning, it's noon and the text says: "Thanks for taking care of me! Pity, ha X".

He ignores her, like a little rich diva he will never be. He hopes...  
He watches some tv, makes a breakfast, chews it, textes Louis, but gets no reply. Oh, well he's in Manchester. About three hours later he gets another message and that's a surprise. It's not Cara's style, she never tried this hard. He guesses with a shrug that she's just as bored as him. What can lonely celebs do on sunday's afternoon?  
"I said something, didn't I"  
All he does is stare at his phone, because she did. Another surprise comes quickly after that. His phones buzzes annoyingly and without a second thought he tapps red button, then he waits.  
"At least tell me how bad it was. How clever was I? X"  
He gives her what she wants. What he receives as  the answer is "dumbfuck" and "Babez, I'm sorry. Didn't mean it. Huh, answer the fucking call!!"  
She gets "Have an interview. Weren't you right?", but he's still terrible at lying.

 

***

Next time they see each other it's on Nick Grimshaw's grill party in his garden.  
He avoids her and everyone can see. She glances at him for a moment then walks up to Aimee and chats to her animatedly. They both laugh every two minutes and Harry's not staring at all. Grimmy plops on the deck chair next to him and wriggles his eyebrows.  
-So did she bite you in the wrong place or?  
-What.  
\- Oh, come on. You know what i'm talking about - Nick pats his knee. - Just look at her! She's licking out your bum in her thoughts. You can totally see it! - he giggles, sounding abstractly childish considering the subject. And it's _disgusting._  
Harry suddenly catches her gaze and something weirdly pink covers her high cheekbones. She quickly turns around, catches some burger and almost runs towards the pool, where the girls are laughing loudly at something. She joins them like nothing's happened. Harry just stares for a moment with disbelief. Cara Delevingne blushed when he looked at her, the heaven is falling on his head.  
-Well, no wonder. It's quite nice ass I gotta say.- he smirks doing that ridiculous thing with his eyebrows and Harry rolls his eyes, but can't help laughing.  
-Jeez, Nick. Nothing happened really...  
-It doesn't look like that.  
-Yup, 'cause it looks like she hates me. - Harry shrugs a little bit nonchalant and immediately is angry at himself, because it's impossible for Grimmy not to catch that. He doesn't want any questions, he's so tired of them.  
\- Total bullshit, young man. She's almost as into you, as you are into her. But y'know - it's Cara. You can't have everything. And she's quite weird... That Ganja Chanel jacket... - he frowns like concerned father. Harry just smiles and shakes head. How is it his life?  
-Oi, wanna play croquet? I got those flamingo sticks, just like in "Alice in Wonderland"! - Grimmy says with excited grin.  
Harry stares at him in disbelif.  
-Are you teen hipster?  
-I wish I was.  
He doesn't say no, because he couldn't say no and Nick knows it. He plays, along with Alexa and Cara. Somehow he wins and Cara being her ambitious self looks pretty angry. And beautiful. Actually he thinks she's pretending, but doesn't say a thing. He goes to the kitchen and pours two glasses of orange juice. He turns to Cara, who is standing behind him and gives her one. She slowly sips, sucking the edge of vessel.  
-Your flamingo looks like a such a faggot- girl says smirking up at him.  
-It's Grimmy's, how is it suppose to look?- responds Harry making her laugh- And you're just jelly.  
-Kinda. I always get what I want, you know.- She sits on a bench, pats a spot next to her and when Harry looks at her with confusion she grabs his wrist bringing him down.  
-I figured.  
-Don't we look perfect together?- Cara nods at their reflection on polished surface of the fridge.  
-Oh, we do.- he says and then they kiss, soft and sunny.  
-You taste like a orange juice- she says.

 

***

This party is way more classy that the usual ones they attend. You could probably describe it as posh.

Harry doesn't really understand why most people turn into these weird creatures in fancy, designer clothes, constantly clutching long glasses of champagne. Yes, maybe he does have a watch for 40k pounds and does own two overly-priced cars, but he still does enjoy the game of fifa, cheap beer and comfortable pair of sweats, because what would be life without it?

Zayn comes along and the other boys stay home. Liam still doesn't feel good after his sudden break-up with Dani the week before, Niall simply shrugs mumbling something about that chick with cool boobs he met and the motion of his eyebrows really is unnecessary help and Louis stays home with Eleanor. Harry's not jealous at all.

Cara's going to be there. He's not sorry about leaving Zayn. He brought Perrie, and to be honest Harry himself is a bit sick of their easy relationship. They're both so sure and happy about their feelings, the lovebirds. And his favourite worst nightmare was also there. She was going to make him go nuts, he felt it, he  _knew_  it. But he was like a moth flying straight to burning candle, as fast as he could.  
-Hey, babe... - he leans down, fingers grasping her bony wrist, full mouth inches from her ear. She turns around - calm and cold as always, but with usual playful smirk on her face. That's exactly what Harry loves about her (he also enjoyes her long legs and beautifully sculpted face, but that's her personality what makes him touch the fire), but now he just wants to make her squirm, sweat and blush under him. That's quite the challenge. He wants her to open up to him.  
In all of the meanings.  
She seems pretty drunk and he treats her carefully, like a wild animal or rare flower.  
-Don't worry - she says - I'm gonna be a nice girl tonight.  
-For me?  
-Yeah, yeah, you... You're nice. I like you I guess. 'Cause you're nice. - she slowly drags her finger down his cheek. - And you have nice, nice mouth -her digit drops onto his lower lip and traces it with fascination. - Like, really.  
Harry smirks gracefully.  
-So you like my mouth, eh?  
Cara mirrors his expression. Two rich, pretty kids.  
-I would gladly take a ride - the boy gasps at her words.  
The blank-faced waiter stops by and they take another glass of champagne. They shouldn't, but it will matter later. Unfortunately.  
After few big gulps he recovers, licks his plump lips and sends the girl a look.  
-No. I don't need nice.  
-Huh?  
-You're my drunk jury now, so spill. What do you think?  
Cara laughs at him.  
-What do you mean? Like a game? You want me to talk shit about people?  
-Entertain me. - he snickers and she just nods.  
-Okay. So that one... - she points her finger at some blond lass in dark corner of the room. Her expensive lipgloss is already slightly smeared and she doesn't look too happy with dress strap slipping off her shoulder, standing alone with long glass full of liquor. - She's rich, of course she is. Everyone is so jealous and she is so proud. The woman of success, pretty dresser, diamons earings, bussiness lunches, polite smiles, pearly white teeth. The truth - she is fucking miserable, just like everyone else, because she has nowhere to go, she's going to get wrinkles and everyone is talking shit behind her back anyway.  
Harry clears his throat awkwardly and downs his champagne causing Cara to laugh too loud, which gets her load of disapproving looks. She doesn't give a shit and he's impressed. Girls care. He does. Cara's a rebel.  
-You fucked her- she says. He doesn't protest. They take a stroll between the tables, people and fancy plants in fancier pots, carefully ignore the stares, the whispers and the waiters.  
There's a small group of people standing near them. Dressed in designer clothes, with hair carefully styled into a mess. Girls, with mascara smeared just a bit to get this grungy look and boys, with grungy pouts. Harry laughs throatily and then realizes that maybe he shouldn't have.  
-Indie wannabe... just like you!  
-Thought you were suppose to be nice?  
-Never - she smiles and her eyes get sad. - I don't do white lies, Harry Styles.  
They take offered glasses of alcohol and down them quickly. Harry can feel his mother's disapproving eyes back from Holmes Chapel. He feels guilty for seven seconds, but his mum saw all the tabloids, heard all the gossips anyway. Nothing can make it works. He would have to try really hard.  
He points his finger at girl with long legs, long dark hair, and deliciously chocolate skin.  
-What about her?  
-She's amazing, she's brave, she's hot-  
-She's your friend.  
-Yep.- Cara nods and her face is glowing with warm emotion.  
-You don't hurt your friends. So who am I?  
-You don't understand, do you?  
Harry shakes his head.

 

***

They are at his flat again. She drops her clutch in hall and then loses high heels on the way to kitchen, rolls her tight dress up her narrow thighs. Gets comfortable. His green eyes are raking down her legs with hunger. She jumps up on the kitchen counter, grabs a vodka bottle from the cupboard and throws it at his face.  
-So.- she smiles sweetly straight at his heart- Will you offer me a drink?  
Harry unscrews the bottle and takes a large swig, then goes to stand between her legs, clasps her upper thighs and plants a kiss on her lips. They both open their mouths, vodka dripping down their chins and down her throats.  
- _Disgusting_. - she laughs.  
-You're totally into it.- he drags his tongue over her cheek and peppers her chin and neck ignoring her disgusted expression.  
-Am I a whore?- Harry looks up at her from where he is working down the tops of her breaths. She got a bit pale and hesistant. He just shakes his head quickly.  
-No, you're absolutely gorgeous.  
-Ok.  
She slowly slides from the counter and he drags her towards the living room sofa, when suddenly she stops, pushes back at his chest and just holds her finger up and presses it to his lips, ignoring his protests.  
-Shhh!  
He sucks on her finger.  
-Eww- she takes the finger away, smearing spit over the hem of her dress with mock disgust.- Wait for a sec. Can you hear that?  
-What?  
-Moans!  
-Well I did hear it, but you interrupted and there's no point in moaning anymore, innit? - he snorts.  
Cara just grabs his hand and goes straight to the double door on the left, dragging Harry behind her like a complaining toddler.  
-Do you really need to wake up Louis?- he grunts.  
\- I don't think he's actually sleeping... - girl's smirk is wide and happy.  
-Wait, what.- Harry stops abruptly and finally listens. There are soft moans and gasps coming from behind the door and that can only mean...- Oh. Eleonor's not in Manchaster anymore.  
Cara's smile seems to widen, but that can't be humanly possible. It also gets filthy. Harry gets scared.  
-I want you to fuck me. Against this door. Like right now.  
Harry stares at her blankly.  
-...they will hear us.  
\- Exactly.  
He makes a quick decision (the argumentation is "it's hot, I cannot") and holds her up by the backs of her thighs and she hooks her ankles behind his back, the dress rucking up around her waist. Her body hits the door with a quiet thump. He hooks his finger under the rim of her underwear. It involves some awkward fumbling, but finally he manages to get it off her long legs. She totally ignores the zip, just dragging his trousers down. As they fall to the floor, the door behind them opens and they face angry faced and boxer-clad Louis.  
-Are you fucking serious, Harry? Really?  
He completely ignores Cara.  
-It is the last time. I'm fucking sick of it, you know? I told you million fucking times.- She watches with fascination as Louis's face slowly turns red.- I'm moving out, that's it.  
He quickly walks towards the exit, pulling his trousers and shirt on in the same time. It looks kinds funny, but Cara doesn't dare to laugh, because Harry's face has drained of color. Eleanor goes out of the bedroom and follows her boyfriend on his beeline, glaring at them judgmentally.  
Harry seems to be choking on air and Cara takes his hand, pulls him in general direction of his bedroom and ignores Eleanor's whisper "Whore".  


 

***

In the morning she goes outside and the next day her face is plastered all over the crappy tabloids.  
They write something rude about her hair being messy.  
 _It's all about the hair._

 

* * *

-So, Harry... - The presenter smiles like a creepy barbie doll and Harry feels shiver going down his spine.

\- What do you have to say about...- the girl looks down to her notes and her smile turns a bit apologetic, but still very plastic. - Cara Delevingne? About your relationship? 

(Great friend he is, Harry drives to pick Cara up from Heathrow. Arrivals hall is busy, full of people. He pulls his hat down, trying to hide his curls. They shouldn't catch him, they shouldn't know he's here. How would they know?! He's trying to calm down, stop feeling like he was a character in spy kids, because Nick will laugh at him and Harry really doesn't want to hear about a "friend of Nick's" being a spy kid on the radio tomorrow. He's just picking up a friend, that's what people do! Harry sits down on one of these extremely uncomfortable chairs they always have in airports and waits. She arrives, fabulous as always, dressed as panda, dancing around, hugging her... Delevingners? Well, he can forget about escaping unnoticed. That's how Cara rolls.)

  
Harry clears his throat. He has whole speech sorted out. Kind of.  
-We're great, really... - The creepy smile deepens and he sees what he did wrong.- I mean great friends, yeah. It's awesome to have someone you can always talk to, no matter what, you know? Cara's this type of friend to me-

  
(They drive to her flat, because every paparazzo in this city knows exactly where Harry lives. When it comes to Cara's it's just half of them. Nobody catches them and that's a fucking miracle they would thank god for if they had any time at all. Second after the door closes Harry presses Cara against it. She pulls the hood of her onesie over her face. "Do you have some kind of animal kink?" she purrs. "Yeah, I'm into skinning."  
Cara falls on the floor in hysterics "You're the worst." Harry is offended.)

  
Just when he got back on the right track that annoying chick iterrupts him. Rude.  
-But isn't it weird with her being a girl? Also your rumoured girlfriend! We all thought- Harry has no idea who is 'we'- that it was Louis who was _this type of friend_ to you...  
Her smile is now knowing, like she knows him since they were five. His stomach twists at the mention of Louis.

  
(They lie in bed whole afternoon, then they order some takeout and extend this into whole night. It feels so nice and just right. "So," she nudges his calf with her ice-cold feet. Harry frowns "So?". Cara mirrors his frown "Louis is gone for good?". Harry nods. "I'm sorry" she seems genuine, sad eyes complete with a pout. "You've got no time for feeling sorry.")

  
-Well I don't think the gender changes anything... Besides all girls are my rumoured girlfriends. Just like Louis.  
World finds out that her laugh is also plastic.  


 

>  
> 
> _Just living proof that the camera's lying._

 

 

 


End file.
